


Quiche, Not Casserole

by half_sour_saffitz



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Ben lives, F/M, Fluff, M/M, POV Ben Solo, Poe Dameron can't cook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24873295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/half_sour_saffitz/pseuds/half_sour_saffitz
Summary: Rey introduces her bffs to her bf. They might recognize him from all the times he tried to kill them. But it's not like they have their love lives figured out either.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	Quiche, Not Casserole

Introducing your new boyfriend to your friends is hard enough in a normal situation. But really, what’s a “normal” situation? Normal is just a setting on an astromech droid. I mean, what about … FN-2187 … no, shit, he has a new name now. What the hell is it? Flip? Fox? Finn. That’s it. Finn. His love life is an absolute mess -- a new girl every week and clearly in love with … Poo? Dammit. I  _ have _ to learn Rey’s friends' names. I should start writing them down. 

Rey is an absolute mess, obviously. She’s been walking around with my last name -- okay my mom’s last name -- well, the last name my mom  _ would _ have had if my grandparents were any sort of normal, but you know what I’m saying here. Rey’s telling the galaxy she wants to be part of my family but she can’t tell her friends that we’re… boyfriend/girlfriend? Ha. It’s funny, really. Declaring myself Supreme Leader of the galaxy was simpler than being a “boyfriend.” I should probably not bring up the whole Supreme Leader thing at dinner. Mental note. 

“Babe. You trying to strangle the com-rig?” 

Oof. Rey’s expression is saying that all further attempts at humor will be met with deadly force. And I know as well as anyone that this beautiful, stunning, incredible Jedi is more than capable of bringing deadly force. 

“This is serious, Ben.” 

“All right, all right. Serious.” 

“We’re going to  _ your  _ mother’s funeral.” 

“Oh, thanks. I’d forgotten.” 

Okay, maybe the last comment was seasoned with a little too much bitterness, but what do you expect? Rey spent more time with my mother than I had the last few years. Not that it’s her fault. Of the two people sitting in these pilots chairs, it is definitely not Rey’s fault. 

“Sorry,” Rey mutters, though it’s hard to tell if she's talking to me or the stars shooting past the windshield. 

“It’s fine.” It is. Because there are a lot of definitions of “fine” and traveling across the galaxy with your new girlfriend to your mother’s funeral to meet her friends who will definitely hate you is one of those definitions. 

“How are you feeling? About the funeral?” 

Rey spares a glance away from the endless space in front of us to look at me. And I know if we crashed into a meteor or a dying star, I wouldn’t regret her lax driving. If I die looking into those warm brown irises, I’ll be a lucky man. 

“Not feeling much at all,” I say. “Does that make me a bad person?” 

Rey shakes her head. “We already said goodbye.” 

It’s true. We spoke with my mother -- her force ghost if you want to be particular -- and my uncle on Tatooine. It was one of those experiences that is once in a lifetime, because if it happened more than once I’d probably dive down a dangerous shaft in the Death Star myself. But it was good. I think all bereft children know what they would give up to get one more hug from their mom. 

“So then you admit it.” 

“Admit what?” 

“This trip is exclusively to present me as your boyfriend.” 

Rey doesn’t answer and does that cute murderous glare out the windshield. 

“Are you?” she asks, and though she’s got a mask of battle-hardened toughness on, her voice betrays a vulnerability and insecurity several parsecs deep. 

“Am I what?” I ask, drawing it out on purpose. 

She rolls her eyes, and a little, little smile tries to pierce her firm-set lips. “My boyfriend?” 

I smile too, just a little, just gratefully. “I’d be your anything.” Isn’t that the truth? I tried to be her enemy when I thought that -- that  _ dyad _ in the force -- was what kept us connected. As it turns out, being nice makes the face-to-face interactions a lot more enjoyable, and a lot healthier. “But I’m pretty excited to be your boyfriend.” 

Now the smile’s out and proud on her face. She’s trying to wrestle it away, like she always does with her emotions around me. It’s getting better, but it’s not the best yet. It’ll get better. I hope. I pray. It has to. That’s what I’m working for every day, for the rest of my life. 

“You’re beautiful,” I say. I’ve never had a problem saying the truth -- about other people. About me? That’s a little harder. “But when you smile? Radiant.” 

She punches my shoulder. Still smiling. 

Eventually we make it to Endor. My mother wanted to be laid to rest here. I remember when she first showed me this system. I was just a little kid, no bigger than the Ewok locals, and my mom was so happy, so joyful, so at peace here. She loved the little teddy bears; she wanted to show me all that she loved in the galaxy. I wish I’d let her. 

Rey doesn’t miss a thing, and she certainly doesn’t miss the tears trying to escape my eyelids as we exit the Falcon. She also knows that I don’t want to talk, and she doesn’t make me. Just wraps her arms around me until the tears have run their course. 

Finally I can turn to look at her. “You need a haircut,” she says. I laugh a watery laugh. “Are you sure you want to hang in the back?” I nod. “You’re her son. You have more right than anyone to be at the front.” 

“Funerals are for the living,” I say. “The resistance has the right to mourn -- I would just get in the way.” 

Rey frowns and twitches her nose like she does when she’s fighting over the right words to say. At the end, I see that she goes for the truth, because her wide brown eyes find me. “I just wish you… I need you.” 

I squeeze her hand. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be with you.” 

But I’m going to be with Rey from a distance. Because I don’t think -- actually I  _ know _ \-- that a funeral isn’t going to stop General Dameron from blasting me on sight. And then I’d have to defeat him in front of his battalion and then Rey’s dream of all of us getting along would be dashed. So I’ll hang back until the good general is fully watered down by grief and maybe a few celebratory shots. 

The funeral is hard. The only way I get through it is force-connecting with Rey. Instead of standing in the back of the thousands who gathered, hooded and alone, I’m right there with her in the front row. She cries through most of it and I’m struck by a weird, terrible happiness. My mother would have loved a daughter, especially a daughter as tough and strong as Rey. I’m glad she got it. 

Eventually the funeral ends and Rey finds her friends. Finn and … Poe! Poe, his name is Poe. A  _ slightly _ better name than Poo. And C3PO and Chewie obviously. Them I’m not so worried about. Chewie put up with my dad and C3PO went through hell and back with my grandfather. They know the tumultuous relationships that come with being a Solo or a Skywalker -- or both if you’re particularly unlucky. Finn and Poe though. They’re gonna be a tougher sell. 

“I want to introduce you to someone,” Rey is saying as she walks with Finn and Poe back to their dwelling. Some Ewoks have given the twin generals one of their grandest yurts. It looks… intimate. 

“Who?” the white one, which I want to say is Finn, asks is that terribly gruff way of his. 

“A someone?” The black one is shrewder, and more jealous. I could laugh. He can pretend Rey is his soulmate all he wants, but it couldn’t be more obvious that Rey is not the point connecting this love triangle. 

That’s when Rey notices that I’m with them through this interaction. Probably feels my amusement. We meet eyes for a moment, her inside the generals’ yurt, me loitering by the Millenium Falcon. Then she severs the connection and I am forced to give her privacy and stew while she explains what -- who -- she brought along with her. 

It takes hours. But eventually, I am invited to the honorary yurt. Rey opens the door. I don’t need to be force-sensitive to feel the frenzied energy coming off of her. 

“Ben!” she exclaims, and takes my hand, dragging me inside like I might run away. I might. 

Inside it is cramped. Something is burning. 

“Ben. You know Finn, and Poe.” Rey gestures to them in order and I realize I’ve been switching them up this whole time. Finn is the one who thinks he’s in love with her and Poe -- Poe is the one in the pink frilly apron swearing at whatever has been in the oven for way too long. 

Finn’s jaw is set and his eyes say all the four letter words he’s too honorable to say out loud. 

I extend my hand first. He shakes it. Unhappily. 

“Finn,” I say. 

“Ren.” 

“Ben.” 

“So hard to keep track,” Poe throws out from the kitchen, not so preoccupied with the burning travesty that I am hoping we won’t be obliged to eat. 

“Poe. Good to meet you.” 

“General Dameron is fine.” 

“I heard about your promotion. Congrats. And so … progressive of you to share the title.” 

Rey glares at me and curiously, Finn glares at General Dameron. 

General Dameron lets the casserole dish drop to the counter with a clamour. He further emphasizes his displeasure by throwing his oven gloves to the ground. “What are we supposed to do, Rey? Just welcome him with open arms? Invite him in for dinner and serve him a home-cooked meal?” 

“If there’s a non-home-cooked meal available, I’d take that,” I quip before I can stop myself. 

Finn, of all people, snorts. General Dameron demonstrates that his gaze of hatred can be extended to people who are not me. We take our places at the table. 

Rey flails wildly for a conversation topic. For some unknown and incomprehensible reason, she decides to go with: “Finn, weren’t you saying that you’d like to learn more about saber fighting? Ben could give you a few tips.” 

While I appreciate the effort my girlfriend is going through to fold me into her friend group, maybe mentioning my lightsaber prowess is not the best way to go about it. 

“I’d be happy to. Unfortunately, my girlfriend kind of sort of buried my saber.” Rey and I share a glance and giggle. 

“Your  _ girlfriend _ .” Nothing gets by General Dameron. 

I let Rey take this one. 

“I  _ told  _ you that.” 

“Right. Right. Just the most evil man in the galaxy, but let’s wife him up.” 

“I do be the wifey type though.” 

“He’s not evil.” 

“He’s not good.” 

“He’s right here,” Finn says. 

Rey and General Dameron glare at each other. 

“This casserole is amazing,” I lie as I take a big bite of coagulated char. 

“It’s quiche.” 

“Delicious.” 

“See?” General Dameron says to Rey. “A liar.” 

“He’s trying to make you feel better about your abominable cooking!” Rey throws up her hands. 

“And what lies is he gonna tell you? Huh? To make you feel better about  _ betraying _ \--” 

“Enough!” I can take all the abuse they can hurl at me -- hell, I deserve it. But this relationship is not ever going to reflect badly on Rey. When I get to my feet, General Dameron reaches for his blaster. Finn rises too while Rey sits resolutely with her arms crossed. “Rey stayed loyal to every single ideal she’s ever held. That’s why I’m here and not dead in a trench on Exegol.” General Dameron’s expression relays little sorrow over that possibility. “She betrayed nothing and no one. I suspect you were about to bring my mother’s name into this conversation, General Dameron, but that would be a singularly bad idea.” 

General Dameron smiles. He’s like me. We’re both more comfortable with threats than civil conversation. This is what he’s been waiting for all night. I hold out my hands in the universal sign of “no weapons” though of course, if I want to be deadly, I don’t even need my hands. 

“I love you, Rey,” I say. Her eyes get all wide. It’s adorable.“But I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. Please, stay with your friends. I’ll be fine.”

And with that I take my leave. I don’t have to be force sensitive to know that the oafish footfalls following me out are not Rey. 

“Hey man,” Finn touches my shoulder and I subdue the instinct to hurl him twenty yards into the nearest tree. Being touched isn’t one of my love languages. “I’m sorry about Poe. I think you get it though. It’s going to take him some time to unlearn something that kept him alive for the past few decades.” 

I nod, conceding the point. “He’s lucky to have you.” 

Finn squirms. “Uhh, sure.” Why do men always do that? Lower their voice twelve octaves when confronted with their own feelings? “So you love her?” 

“Unequivocally.” 

Finn nods. I see a few shadows march through his body, but then his shoulders relax. “She loves you.” 

Then he throws a projectile at me. I’m stunned. I didn’t sense it coming. At all. If anything, the force was sending “good vibes” through Finn. It’s dark and shiny, slightly oblong. It arcs high -- too high. Those extra milliseconds the bomb spends moving up gives me the time to react and I catch it with the force. It’s sloppy technique and the object spins head over heel before coming to a stop. I’m able to read the side of the canister. 

“Hoth Lite?” 

The unmistakable sound of a beer being cracked and Finn wide-eyes me over the rim. “You’re gonna wanna let that settle.” 

So here we are, on the little moon Endor. Two runaways from the First Order, sipping shitty beer. Celebrants of my mother pass us by. Most of them pause to dap Finn up -- almost none of them recognize me. Plenty of people wear black, I guess, and without the helmet I’m just a dude who needs a haircut. 

“So.” I’m wondering if I can broach this subject. It could be a major tactical error -- or it could win me a new ally. A new  _ friend _ . “General Dameron seems…” 

“He’s just stressed. You know, he really respected -- loved -- Leia. And he just lost his job since there’s no more resistance effort. And … you know, he’s protective of Rey.” 

“Rey is the most powerful person in the galaxy,” I tell him. “She’s lucky to have someone like Poe Dameron watching her back.” 

I know I’m not just hyping up my girlfriend. She is way more powerful than me, or Snoke, or Palpatine. Or even my parents, my uncle, or my grandfather. She was powerful enough to save me when no one else would have ever thought of it. The rest of us were pretty resigned to killing each other; it was the only thing we were confident we could do. 

“You’re lucky too,” I say, feeling more confident. 

“Yeah, he’s a good friend. Good guy. Stubborn. Confrontational. Really bad cook. But, you know, net positive. Overall.” 

“I have found -- in my own life -- I’m usually the least agreeable to be around when I’m hiding something from myself.” 

There’s a lot more white in the eyes that Finn casts at me. 

“For instance, when I was trying to tell myself that the connection I felt with Rey didn’t scare me to the Outer Rim and back, I force-strangled one of my own generals. I think if I had been more honest with myself, we probably could have worked things out more amicably.” 

Finn is cast for a loop by this conversation. But like I said, I’m learning to be honest about myself. 

“You think Poe’s hiding something?” 

“Not well.” 

Finn doesn’t ask what Poe’s hiding because he doesn’t need to waste his breath of the obvious. 

“How can you be sure?” 

I roll my eyes where Finn can’t see. “The force,” I say, with all the reverence of a Jedi Master. 

A little tiny smile curls Finn’s lips. They’re all suckers for the force. That was something my uncle taught me, back in my early days, when I too was a sucker for the force. But he told me that the more skilled with the force you become, the less you actually need it. Living beings telegraph themselves all over the place. I don’t need to go digging through their energies to see that the two boys are crazy about each other. 

“Come on,” he says, jumping down from our drinking spot. I crumble the cans into one ball with a sweep of my arm and tuck them in my pocket. Ewoks are nuts about littering. 

Finn is all keyed up. His hands play in the air and we’re nearly running back to yurt sweet yurt. Outside though, he pauses, still as a statue. The most surprising sound of all -- laughter -- comes from inside. I recognize Rey’s pealing giggles, and I assume the manly chuckles are the good general. 

“Come on,” I urge. “He’s in a good mood.”

Finn nods, jumps in place three times, and pushes open the door. I catch a glimpse of the table where the disgrace to quiches everywhere has been cleared away and replaced with Corellian spirits -- no lukewarm Hoth Lite for these two. 

“Ben!” Rey calls, jumping up. General Dameron gets to his feet in time to catch the chair she sent careening backwards. I have to admit, I used to think unlimited power was the best feeling in the galaxy, but a hug might have it beat. I pull her off the side and nod towards Finn who looks deadly serious for a man in love. 

“Hey…” Poe says warily. 

“Shut up.” 

“What?” 

“Shut up. For once. Just. Just listen to me!” Poe instinctively puts up his open palms. “I love you.” Rey claps a hand over her mouth while General Dameron’s whole body language sags. His mouth hangs open in everything. “And -- I want to be with you!” 

General Dameron’s Adam's apple bobs. “What’s stopping you?” 

The light in Finn’s eyes grows a few degrees. “You!” 

Poe pushes the chair in front of him aside, crosses the yurt in 1.5 strides, and kisses him on the lips. Finn melts. 

Rey looks up at me with a look of glee that’s threatening to split her face in half. After a few long moments, the generals split apart. Finn is dazed and excastic, while Poe rubs his hand through his hair. “So… ahh…” 

Rey squeals and leaps across the yurt to hug them both. “We’re gonna leave you alone,” she promises, embracing them tight enough to restrict blood flow. “This is amazing!” 

I gently extract her. Finn gives me a grateful look. Poe doesn’t even acknowledge my presence, which I think is a huge step in the right direction for us. I take Rey by the hand out into the night, excited and inspired by what I just saw in the yurt. In my mind, we’re already back, safe and sound in the Millenium Falcon. 

But then my feet stop. There’s nothing wrong with them, they’re not caught in anything, but they won’t move an inch. I turn to see Rey biting her lip. My heart races as she stalks towards me and puts her hands on either side of my face. I don’t wait for her, snaking an arm around her back. Our lips meet and it’s a supernova. To any future dyads in the force, I highly recommend physical contact over physical violence. I remember our old days of lightsaber battles -- how it was heightened by the short glimpse into the future. I always had a slight warning where she was gonna put her saber -- and I knew she knew where I was gonna throw mine. It was an intellectual as much as physical. 

Well… this brave new world of physical engagement is just as much -- if not more -- of a mind-melt. I know just that spot on her neck and just how hard to bite and I can hear that squeal/moan before it passes through her lips. She knows when I’m gonna back her against a wall, and I can feel the moment she wants to flip me onto the table. When did we get back to the Falcon? Hard to say, and hard to say I care as I watch Rey climb up and lower her lips back onto mine. I swear, I don’t even think about it, but the force wiggles through Rey’s robes, loosening them to make way for our hands. I notice that I’m losing track of time. Rey takes one of my fingers in her mouth and my neck cranes back, but hers does too. Our eyes meet and I know she’s feeling it too. I sit up, forcing her back and kiss the soft skin of her stomach. I feel the tremor, so close to tickle, across my own skin. 

“Oh fuck,” Rey mouths. 

My heart is hammering in my throat and I can’t wait a single second longer. I throw her over my shoulder and get us to the berths. They’re narrow bunks, not made for two -- but I don’t feel like two anymore. Clothes off, a short intake of breath in my ear, and then I’m gone. We’re gone. It’s one explosion after another -- hers, mine -- it’s impossible to distinguish. But they’re building, up, up, up, until -- total annihilation. 

Sometime later, when we’ve collapsed into a tangled heap and our breathing has calmed somewhat, I say (without thinking), “I get what all the hype was about.” 

Rey props herself up, mouth agape. “You’re kidding.” 

I swear at the ceiling and smile at her. “Yeah, I just said that to make myself sound cool.”

Rey giggles into my chest. “Sorry. It’s totally -- I don’t care. I’m just shocked!” 

“I was a Jedi!” I protest about my adolescence. 

“Padawan,” she corrects. 

“And then…. I was busy.” 

“No takers on the Starkiller base?” 

I shrug, self-conscious. “Sure. But. It never felt right. Everyone was so …” I swallow hard.  _ Say it, this is the one, you can say anything _ . “They were all scared of me.” 

Rey circles her arms around me and squeezes tight. She puts her chin on my chest so our eyes are inches apart. “Well, Ben Solo, I am not scared of you.” My bottom lip trembles and I blink one, twice, three times. I never knew that was something I wanted to hear, that I needed to hear. But when she says it something clicks, something inside relaxes. I sigh. 

“Maybe a little scared about how a novice became so…  _ skilled _ ,” she continues. 

I laugh and quick, before she can sense my actions, flip us over. Her smile tells me I didn’t get this past her one bit. All the more reason to keep trying. 


End file.
